


(I Wanna Be) Somebody to Someone

by Mistressaq



Series: Most Popular Queens [7]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF, The Most Popular Girls in School
Genre: 2020 is cursed, Chaperones, Disordered Eating, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Marijuana, Prom, Rare Pairings, but I worked too hard on this to let it die a draft, casting has to change becauuuuuuuuse, enjoy, quarter life crisis, self destructive behavior, so i picked a different White whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24919867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistressaq/pseuds/Mistressaq
Summary: Brooke Lynn Hytes is 27 with declining mental health and she just watched her kid sister get crowned prom queen. Bianca Del Rio is the school lunch lady, and the only person in the crowded gym who hears Brooke crying out for help
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Bianca Del Rio
Series: Most Popular Queens [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547560
Kudos: 14





	(I Wanna Be) Somebody to Someone

**Author's Note:**

> For the indefinite future, the role of Bridget Tice will be played by Brooke Lynn Hytes 
> 
> title taken from Catie Turners song "Prom Queen" it's peak sad lesbian energy

“You smell like a garage,” remarked Bianca. She turned to a pack of teens leaving the cafeteria. “Have a good night.” 

“Enjoy your night,” Brooke flatly told the next group. Through a bank in human traffic she told Bianca “You still smell like maple syrup and meat.”

When only a few students lingered in the cafeteria and the two chaperones were somewhat alone, Bianca approached Brooke Lynn. She took out her key ring. “Look at me, Brooke.”

Brooke obeyed, letting Bianca shine a flashlight in her eyes. She recoiled at the brightness, made worse by oversensitivity.

The elder woman _tsk-_ ed. 

Brooke rolled her eyes. “How else was I supposed to make it through tonight without throwing myself off the roof?”

Bianca folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m not gonna deny wanting a little help here and there from illicit substances, but Jesus, kid, how long does huffing glue really last? And they give you splitting headaches afterward, don’t they?”

Brooke averted her eyes. After a few beats of silence, she raised a white arm, cupping her face in her hand. Her eyebrows knitted together. “My kid sister won _prom queen_ ,” she said for about the tenth time that night. It still didn't feel real.

Bianca made a sound of similar surprise. “Had to stoop to whorish levels to get there.” She chuckled.

“At least she achieved something,” muttered Brooke.

Bianca slowly went to put her hand on the younger woman's shoulder. 

Brooke dutifully met her gaze. 

“I wouldn’t wanna go back to that house if I were in your position,” said Bianca. Brooke shook her head in agreement. Bianca lowered her voice and looked around. When she was certain no one was eavesdropping, she whispered “I didn’t tell you this, but I grow grass on my porch.” 

Brooke's dilated eyes lit up. 

“Been saving it up for an especially worthy cause,” said Bianca with a side eye. “Care to make my evening a little less lonely?”

Brooke eagerly (if wobbily) followed Bianca out to the faculty parking lot. “I remember when the stoners talked about coming out here to smoke joints,” commented Brooke. “I always looked down on them. For not _applying themselves_.”

“Now you realize there was a method to their madness,” Bianca said.She clicked a button on her keychain. A squeaky chime came from a tiny Volkswagon bug nearby. At the sight of it Brooke started cackling. She didn’t know why the sight of the lunch lady unlocking the tiny car was so hilarious. Suddenly lightheaded, she had to brace herself on the side of it to catch her breath. 

“Allright, Ginger, don’t make me regret inviting you to my cave,” said Bianca as she manually unlocked the passenger-side door from the inside. Brooke opened the door and scooted in, still giggling quietly.

“Seatbelt,” Bianca reminded her. “Not having your head smash through my window.” 

Brooke obeyed. The laughter subsided when they pulled out of the lot. In the quiet of the night, she started thinking. “You’re not gonna murder me, right?” she blurted.

Bianca threw her head back and cackled. “Bitch, I already been to jail once, I ain't’ fixin to do it again.”

Brooke took out her phone to text her mom, then she realized she wouldn’t care. She didn’t want to text Ariel, but she needed someone to know where she was. She put the phone down and pursed her lips. Her head throbbed.

She lost the time between when she put her phone down and when they arrived at Bianca’s apartment. It was dark, but Brooke could tell they were on the older side of town. Bianca was talking, but Brooke just caught the last of it. “--nutritional service employees don’t make a lot of money, as you can probably guess. But it’s liveable and somewhat clean.” Brooke was standing next to the car, but couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there. 

Bianca extended her hand to guide Brooke toward the building. Brooke let her. 

Bianca’s apartment was on the third floor, and she informed Brooke that the elevator was out of order. Brooke's joints ached as she forced her body to scale the stairs, breathing deeply and trying not to think about how high off the ground she was. 

Bianca turned her key into the door marked 3B. 

Inside was a quaint hallway. Only a few photos hung on brightly colored frames on the plaster-white walls. Brooke stared at one, noting how weird it was that the faces kept phasing in and out of focus. “Me and my brother,” Bianca said, making Brooke jump and jerk her eyes away from the wall. When she looked back at the picture, it was clearly a younger Bianca and a boy a little older. Brooke tilted her head. They looked like they were in late high school.

“Brooke?” asked Bianca, a little louder than was necessary, suggesting that she had tried to get her attention before. 

“Oh, sorry. What?”

“I’m makin’ tea, you care what kind?” 

“Oh,” Brooke tried to make her brain process the words. They weren’t clicking.

Her silence prompted Bianca to come over, a slightly concerned expression on her face. She raised a hand to Brooke's forehead. Brooke blinked. “Not feverish,” Bianca determined, though her expression went unchanged. 

Brooke let Bianca take her hand and guide her into a living room-esque space. There was a TV. Brooke stared at it for a while before Bianca came back with a glass of icewater. “Drink,” she said.

Brooke obeyed. It tasted sour. Bianca tilted Brooke's face, forcing the woman to look into her eyes. She couldn’t focus. There was just so much face to look at. Bianca’s lips moved but Brooke couldn’t hear. She shook her head, not comprehending. She tried to focus on what the older woman said this time. “When was the last time you ate?” Bianca enunciated.

Brooke had to think about that for a minute. The last time she remembered was stuffing a stale breadstick in her mouth about an hour before she got off work. She told Bianca.

Bianca made her pay attention again. It was getting easier when the woman blocked out all distractions from her vision. And that she made Brooke keep taking sips of ice water, which was returning to what Brooke recognized as run-of-the-mill tapwater with ice cubes floating on the top.

“Are you allergic to anything?” asked Bianca.

It took Brooke less time to respond than it had before. “Penicillin and latex.” Her voice sounded far away.

“Right, but no food items?” Bianca asked.

Brooke shook her head. Bianca nodded and took Brooke's hand again, leading her into the kitchen area. There wasn’t much space, but Bianca told Brooke to just sit on the countertop. When Brooke's shaking arms refused to bear her weight, she decided leaning was an appropriate option.

 _Okay, I gotta keep her talking_ , thought Bianca as she pulled out a loaf of bread from the cabinet. “I see your roots growing out,” she said. “Why on earth would you _want_ to be a ginger?”

Brooke remembered her reason. “So that everyone would know how soulless I am,” she answered.

Bianca chuckled. 

“But also…” she picked at the inside of her elbow. “Everyone in my family is brunette. I’ve been trying to distance myself from them any way I can. For a while.”

Bianca pushed the glass of water to Brooke's face. She drank. It felt refreshingly chill on her tongue. 

She looked around the kitchen, taking it in. Tile walls, easily cleaned. The grout between the tiles was chipping away but wasn’t all the way gross yet. There was an old-style white refrigerator with schedules and dates on it. No colorful magnets. No kid’s drawings. The floor was white tile, much the same as the walls except more stained and chipped. 

Something flat pushed into her chest. Brooke looked down. Paper plate with a sandwich on it. She didn’t have to look at Bianca this time to hear her say “Eat.” Brooke took the plate in her left hand and picked up the sandwich with the other. PB&J. She smiled and looked at Bianca as she dutifully brought the food to her lips. Her mouth didn’t want to open, but the look Bianca gave her told her she had no choice. 

It hit her tongue, and it was like having an orgasm after a whole day of denial. Suddenly the eight hours since that breadstick hit her and she was starving. She went to cram the whole sandwich into her mouth before Bianca told her to slow down. “Gonna give yourself a stomachache like that.”

Brooke slowed her pace, and let Bianca stare at her while she chewed. It was good. “Thank you.”.

“You’re welcome.” Bianca regarded her thoughtfully. After a minute or so of quiet, she spoke again. “I’m glad I didn’t let you drive yourself home.”

Brooke looked down. “I would have been fine.”

“ _You_ don’t even believe that.”

Brooke's heart sagged. Bianca was right. It had been getting worse. She had been getting worse and the only person to notice had been the random lunch lady at her old high school. Her chest suddenly felt heavy. Her throat started to ache. 

“You mentioned grass back at the school?” Brooke changed the subject, shoving the last bit of sandwich into her mouth.

“Right.” Bianca started walking out of the kitchen. Brooke went to follow her, but Bianca pushed her back down on the couch and told her to wait there. 

Now that she was more aware of her surroundings, Brooke noticed that the coffee table between the couch and the TV was shabby-chic, and looked like it had been done by Bianca herself, or that brother of hers. She ran her fingers along the surface. The transparent seal made it waterproof and easy to clean, but it was still textured, and she ran her fingers over and over the little ridges. 

She waited for what felt like hours and was just about to call out for Bianca when her phone buzzed in her back pocket. 

**Mom Calling**

_Fuck._ She answered. “Hey, mom, sorry I didn’t--”

“ _Brooke_ !” squeaked a voice that was most definitely _not_ her mother’s. 

“What do you want, Ariel?” she deadpanned.

“Broooke, we are partying! Don’t you want to join your popular sister? And bring us some booze?” Ariel didn’t do sweet very well.

“I would rather slam my tongue in a car door. Leave me alone.” She hung up despite her sister’s protests. Brooke hung her head in her hands.

“Woah, did things take a turn in Brooke's brain?”

Brooke flung herself back into an upright seated position. Her head pounded in protest to the sudden movement. She shook her head and looked straight into Bianca’s eyes. “No,” she defended honestly. She bade Bianca sit next to her. Bianca followed and put the bag on the coffee table.

“My sister’s a little shit,” said Brooke.

Bianca joined her and went to work preparing two joints. “You sure you want to?” she asked without looking away from her task. “You’re welcome to just hang out--”

“Spare me,” Brooke said bluntly.

“Alrighty then,” said Bianca, her voice a little too chipper. She was uncomfortable, yeah. Here she was offering drugs to a semi-stranger after taking care of that stranger and making sure she didn’t OD on… paint thinner? Was that even possible? 

She held one of the joints out to Brooke, only to pull it back. “Now, I give this to you, you don’t get me in trouble with the law.” 

Brooke nodded. “Like you said: not going back to prison.” She held out her hand. 

Bianca turned on Cartoon Network.

They lit up. 

It felt so much better than paint thinner.

The next day Brooke woke up with her face snuggled into Bianca’s cleavage and Bianca’s hand resting on her lower back. 

She let it happen.

\-----

When Brooke felt the older woman shift beneath her she squeezed her eyes shut. Bianca rubbed the sleep from her eyes and registered that she was still being cuddled by last night’s smoking buddy. Her mind was groggy but she remembered laughing and joking with Brooke. She got the sense the girl didn’t smile very often. Every time Bianca could make her smile was enough positive reinforcement to keep going. Brooke had a charming, slightly crowded smile.

At one point both women had to turn away to cough and try to catch their breath, and when Brooke turned back Bianca remembered that the girl had a look on her face that said something. Something more than a ‘thank you’. 

She had looked at Bianca like she’d been living in a cave for years and Bianca had pulled her out of the dark.

Then Brooke Lynn leaned forward… and kissed Bianca. She’d pulled away before Bianca could react. The pale-skinned woman made a laugh/exhale and shook her head, avoiding eye contact. “I don’t know what that was--” She could only play with the corner of the couch cushion. “I’m just. High.” 

Bianca lowered her voice. “ _Brooke_. Look at me.”

Like she’d done every time the previous evening when Bianca had given an order, Brooke obeyed.

Bianca leaned forward, and their lips met again. Brooke's hands very quickly found the nape of Bianca’s neck, securing her place. She arched her back into the kiss.

There was no reason to stop, nothing that needed to be done. So they just kept going. Kept kissing and kissing. They went from sitting tilted toward each other to Brookeon her knees on the couch crouching over Bianca, lying her down and climbing on top of her. Straddling her more for convenience than looking for more just yet. Eventually the kisses had just turned sweet and drowsy, until the two women were asleep, Brooke's face snuggled between Bianca’s tits.

\-------

Bianca could tell by the way the younger woman held her breath that she was awake. “Mornin’,” said Bianca.

Brooke lifted her head and batted her eyelashes. “Good morning.” She made no indication she intended to let Bianca get up any time soon.

Bianca took a deep breath in, forcing Brooke to loosen her grip and lift herself off of the older woman.

“Okay,” Bianca croaked. She cleared her throat. “You’re gonna have to let me up, kid. Unless you want me to piss on you.” 

Brooke cocked an eyebrow and remained completely straight-faced “Only if you buy me dinner first.”

It was too early for innuendo. Bianca stared at Brooke and blinked for a few seconds while her brain tried to riddle out what she’d just heard. When realization hit, Bianca’s face twisted in disgust. “Just let me up, cunt.” 

Brooke lifted herself back on her knees. The ensuing headrush reminded her that all she’d eaten in the last eight to twelve hours was a PB&J and some Bugles while watching cartoons with Bianca(most of which ended up spat-out after one of Bianca's wisecracks). And that she’d recently limited her eating habits to ‘only eat when you can't function anymore’. The resulting weight loss meant she had to invest in a belt to hold up her jeans and that she learned to reverse-contour her cheeks to make them not look so sunken in.

Aesthetically, she liked becoming Skeletor, but it tended to scare small children. A few days ago a customer had passed her a business card for a therapist specializing in eating disorders. Why was it that seemingly the only people who gave a shit about her were strangers? 

That business card ended up at the open end of her Bic after lighting her third cigarette of the day. 

“Not to kick you out so soon, but that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” Bianca’s throaty voice yanked Brooke out of her own head. The older woman had changed clothes pretty quickly--had Brooke started losing time again? Brooke shook her head. Surely the pot had worn off by now. “Kid?” Bianca was at the door, jangling her keys, looking expectantly at Brooke.

“Where are we going?”

“To the school,” Bianca said as if it were obvious. “To get you to your car so I can go do some grown-up shit I gotta do today.”

Brooke nodded. She rose to her feet like a puppet pulled up by heavy strings and followed Bianca to her front door. 

She hadn’t checked the time but from the condition of the sky, it was proper morning. As Brooke stiffly descended the stairs, she tried to remember if she had work that day. She did, at three. Fuck. She might just call out. Or not show up.

“What’s happening in that damaged brain of yours, kid?” asked Bianca as she pulled her Volkswagen beetle out of the lot. When Brooke didn’t reply, the older woman gently slapped her shoulder. 

“ _Ow_!” Brooke dramatically clutched at where Bianca had hit her. 

Bianca returned her focus to the road. The light turned green and Bianca slammed the accelerator, forcing Brooke's head to smack against the headrest. She whined again. 

“Are you awake now?” asked Bianca tersely. 

Brooke pouted. “You made your point.” She rubbed at the back of her head. Her voice was flat again. “What did you say? I wasn’t paying attention.”

Gone was the giggly, flirty, sensitive girl from the apartment. Brooke's walls had re-built themselves, her face clouded back over to the sad woman who’d chaperoned prom with Bianca yesterday evening. Noticing this, Bianca softened her voice and rested her hand gently on Brooke's knee. “What’s wrong, Brooke?”

The redhead shook her head, her jaw clenched. “Just. Remembered I have to go back to my shitty life… carriage back to pumpkin again.” 

She muttered that last bit, but Bianca caught it. “Hey, y’know,” she started as she rounded a corner. “It doesn’t have to be a one-time thing.” Should she really be doing this? Fuck it. “Do you work today?”

Brooke's head swiveled. 

_Fuck_ , thought Bianca, _too forward_. “Tomorrow, I mean, tomorrow--I’ve got shit to do today.”

Brooke was still looking at her. Bianca tried to keep her gaze on the road--the school was about a minute away--but she could tell from brief peripheral glances that her passenger was staring at her with a lesser version of the look she’d given the previous night before she’d started kissing Bianca. Anxiety tugged at Bianca’s stomach as she pulled into the desolate parking lot. 

Bianca drove by the front and asked which car was Brooke’s. She pointed with her key to a small, beat-up-looking black and white Dodge Neon. The paint had faded and the rubberized door buffers cracked apart. Bianca pulled in a few spaces away. 

“Allright, out,” she said. 

Brooke opened her door and started toward her car. Bianca nodded to herself and shifted into drive. 

“Wait! Wait a second!” came Brooke's voice, running back to Bianca’s passenger side window. 

Bianca rolled it down for her. “What?”

Brooke tapped at the top of the window, her lips pursed, brow furrowed. Then she said, “Seven.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow.” Brooke looked Bianca straight in the eye. Bianca saw her walls fold down just enough for her to glimpse the vulnerability beneath. 

“That’s when I get off. Seven.” Brooke slapped Bianca’s dashboard then turned around and jumped into her car. The engine wheezed and then Brooke was gone.

Something bright green caught Bianca’s eye. 

A sticky note clung to the dash where Brooke had slapped it. On it was a phone number and the words 

**Let’s do that again ;)**


End file.
